


Rude

by justrae2010



Series: Victuuri Wedding Series - Here in Your Arms [5]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Family, It does not go to plan, M/M, Meeting the Parents, Wedding, YOI Wedding Week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-12
Updated: 2017-08-12
Packaged: 2018-12-14 10:06:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11780910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justrae2010/pseuds/justrae2010
Summary: Cool blue eyes scanned up and down him again and Yuuri was helpless to stop the rush of blood flying to his face, skin crawling under the Russian woman’s stern gaze.His hand stayed empty.Victor’s mother’s eyes shifted to her son. “This is him?”Yuuri’s smile fell flat.___________In the run up to the wedding, Yuuri finally meets Victor's parents. It doesn't go well.





	Rude

**Author's Note:**

> YOI Wedding Week Day 7
> 
> Prompt: Family

The hiss of Victor’s shower was still in Yuuri’s ears as he stepped in the bedroom, loose tracksuit bottoms hanging low off his hips. He ran a hand through his wet hair, ruffling it lightly. It had another hour to dry before they met Victor’s parents at the restaurant for dinner.

The thought was mildly terrifying. 

Victor’s parents. 

Yuuri was finally meeting them after he and Victor had publicly announced their engagement, both flying in from halfway across the world to see their darling son and his beau. 

They had dinner reservations for eight at a local Russian restaurant and Yuuri had everything planned to a tee. He was going to wear his best suit, give firm handshakes and a warm smile, and ask for their son’s hand in marriage. Meeting them was already long overdue. Yuuri wanted to make up for that time with an exceptional first impression and impeccable manners. And he was pretty sure that if Victor’s were anywhere near as dramatic as their son, they would love his asking their permission. Victor would adore it. 

His stomach churned with nerves, but he was confident in his plan. Ready. He ran over in his head one last time what he was going to say when the sharp buzz of the apartment’s doorbell broke his trail of thought.

Yuuri frowned.

It was too late for the post and their elderly neighbour who sometimes called on them for help was away to visit their grandchildren. They weren’t expecting anything … were they?

Then something clicked. Victor had been buzzing with excitement last week about ordering the new Yuuri body pillow available and it had been due to arrive yesterday. Maybe this was the express delivery for the lateness. The doorbell buzzed again. Victor would be bitterly disappointed if he missed it, Yuuri already imagining the sad down turn of his mouth and the sparkle fading slowly from his drooping crystal gaze...

He bolted for the door.

Stray water droplets ran down his bare chest, dripping from his wet hair but Yuuri didn’t care, yanking open the front door for the deliveryman.

Only it wasn’t a delivery man. 

Instead, wide aquamarine eyes the exact same shade as Victor’s stared back at him, framed with long platinum blonde eyelashes that fluttered in surprise. Between the eyes and the long, loose silver curls sitting around her shoulders, there was only one person this woman could be.

Yuuri felt the blood pool on his face as Natalia Nikiforov’s eyes darted down, drinking in his half naked form with a blush dusting her cheeks and something hard-edged flashing through her gaze. A heavy hand settled on her shoulder from behind. The tallest man Yuuri had ever set eyes on stepped up behind his wife, combed back hair dark and flecked with grey with fierce green eyes. A nerve jumped in his square jaw when he saw Yuuri, a light stubble over his chin. Vitaly Nikiforov. 

For a moment, Yuuri wondered if it was possible to die of embarrassment, heart seizing up painfully in his chest. He was in  _ nothing _ but sweatpants. In the back of his head, a snide voice hissed at him to cover himself - with a blanket, hands, anything! - but his body was frozen with shock, refusing to listen.

Natalia’s head cocked to the side, hair rippling like water. “Is Victor here?”

Yuuri squeaked in reply.

Her accent was like Victor’s. Excellent, practised English with the elegant roll of a soft Russian accent, curling around the ‘r’s and with a deliberate allure that Yuuri knew came second nature to Victor now after years of practise with the world's press. Now he knew where the tip had come from.

Heat burned over the bridge of his nose as Vitaly leaned in, angling his ear closer to Yuuri. Yuuri didn’t dare try to speak again, tongue feeling like lead in his mouth. The hand on the door was white knuckled.

“Mama!”

Yuuri barely had time to turn his head before Victor flew past him in a flash of pink, white and silver, naked all but the fluffy towel around his waist. He launched right into his mother’s arms. The pair hugged tight in a clash of silver hair and bright smiles, leather clad arms wrapping tight around Natalia Nikiforov’s only son and all but squealing with delight.

“Vitya!”

Something soft nudged Yuuri’s ankle and he stepped back as Makkachin padded through his feet to woof at Natalia’s heels as Victor was swallowed up in his father’s strong arms.

Yuuri just stood back, shocked. He wondered if he could make it to the bedroom in time to slip a shirt on, before anybody noticed he’d gone. They were all wrapped up in hugged and dog petting, chatting in happy Russian and stepping in from outside the bitter St Petersburg winter chill. Maybe they wouldn’t notice. Maybe he could-

“Mama, Papa,” Victor finally stepped back from his parents with a beam that could rival that of the sun, slinking an arm around Yuuri’s naked waist. “I’d like you meet Yuuri. My fiancee.”

Yuuri’s blood ran cold with horror the moment those blue and green eyes slapped on him, gazes intense and curious. A tiny crease played between Natalia’s eyebrows. That wasn’t a good sign, Yuuri thought. His first impression was all wrong. He’d been a stammering, naked idiot at the door instead of the polite, polished man he’d wanted to present himself to be. He’d been so caught off guard, so surprised, so  _ mortified _ that he’d greeted his fiancee’s parents in nothing but sweatpants…

He swallowed hard - hoping that Victor’s parents didn’t notice - and forced his lips to curve, trying to settle the mad thump of his heartbeat. It wasn’t over yet, he told himself. He could still claw it back, make a good impression somehow...

Yuuri stuck his hand out, bright smile already plastered perfectly on his face. “Hello, Mrs Nikiforov. It’s great to finally meet you.”

Natalia Nikiforov didn’t move. 

Cool blue eyes scanned up and down him again and Yuuri was helpless to stop the rush of blood flying to his face, skin crawling under the Russian woman’s stern gaze. 

His hand stayed empty. 

Victor’s mother’s eyes shifted to her son. “This is him?”

Yuuri’s smile fell flat.

“I thought Japanese people bowed as a sign of respect.” Victor’s father said over his wife’s shoulder, mouth a tight, thin line on his face.

Yuuri’s heart dropped into his stomach, feeling sick. His mouth opened, tongue darting out to wet his dry lips instinctively, but no words came out. They choked in his throat, Adam’s apple bobbing helplessly as he tried to stammer over the lump lodged in his windpipe. It just kept getting worse.

Victor’s laugh was melodical in his ear but Yuuri didn’t miss the way his fingers tensed slightly at his waist. “Papa, we’re not in Japan.”

The cold stares didn’t ease up.

Yuuri felt like crying with relief when Victor finally cleared his throat and muttered a quick ‘we’ll just go and get changed’. Something stiff radiated from his boyfriend, something uneasy that just made Yuuri’s nerves stand even more on edge. He felt the Russian’s gazes follow him even as he turned, ducking his flaming cheeks out of sight and trailing behind Victor like a retreating puppy with it’s tail between it’s legs.

“Where’s Yuuri’s room?”

He flinched at the question, pinching his eyes shut. When they opened again, they settled right on Victor’s pink face, mouth hanging open. 

“H-he and I-”

“We, um, we share a-”

They both spilled at the same time, both stumbling over their words and both looking up to the other with equal shock at what the other was revealing - even though they were stating the same thing. Victor’s eyes were round, looking unusually flustered. 

Yuuri could only imagine what he looked like. Slowly, his gaze rolled over his shoulder, neck feeling stiff as he tuned back to Victor’s parents. He didn’t miss the disapproving look they exchanged. 

Dinner could not come quick enough.

Victor and Yuuri dressed in record time and they made their way to the restaurant, seated early to their table with one look at Victor and his family. The waitress barely glanced at Yuuri.

He wished the same could be said for Victor’s parents, who seemed to be watching Yuuri out of the corner of their eyes every moment. He fought the urge to loosen his tie. To do so would only draw more unwanted attention, he was sure, already shrinking in his suit and feeling inadequate in his old tie that Victor hated. He was sure his parents must hate it too. They were as exceptionally dressed as their son; Vitaly in a sharp suit and Natalia in an elegant black A-line dress with lace sleeves from her own designer collection.

Yuuri tried to hide behind his menu, pretending that he could read the stylish cyrillic writing with every intention of just ordering exactly the same as Victor to save himself the shame of asking for help.

“You like dogs, Yuuri?”

He blinked up at the question, only just battling down jumping in his seat. He breathed a small sigh of relief when he saw that Natalia’s eyes were softer now, gazing at him politely across the table. Even a small smile played on her lips.

“Um, yes.” he stammered, finally remembering how to speak. “I used to have a poodle.” He wasn’t about to tell them it was named after their son though…

Vitaly raised his eyebrows. “Oh, when you lived in America?”

A flutter of hope ran through Yuuri, noting the slightly warmer tone to Victor’s father's gaze and the way his mother's smile widened. Dog people. Finally, a topic Yuuri was comfortable with, knew was safe territory. Dog people could never be bad people and a very real - albeit still slightly nervous - smile curved on Yuuri’s face 

The picture of his beloved pet floated in his mind, calming the fight between his heart and his ribcage. “Actually, he stayed in Japan when I lived in America.”

One of his biggest regrets - not spending more time with Vicchan before he’d died, stuck half way across the world for the sake of his career. It hadn’t been ideal. He would have loved to have been able to spend more time with his beloved pet, like Victor was able to spend with Makkachin.

Obviously Victor’s parents agreed. 

Yuuri watched with a plummeting heart as their once brightening expressions sank again, smiles sliding off their faces and the same edge to their gazes chipped back in place.

Natalia’s eyebrows pinched together, exchanging another  _ look _ with her husband. “That doesn’t seem very responsible…”

Yuuri wished he could disappear.

He didn’t dare say another word after that, hiding behind his menu and picking idly at his food, ears dully tuning into the Russian chatter around the rest of the table. The alien language flowed so effortlessly from the Nikiforov’s tongues, sounding beautiful and pleasantly rustic at the same time. He didn’t know anywhere near enough Russian to keep up, eyes dropping to his dinner instead. He occasionally caught the way Victor’s eyes flickered across the table, ears pricking when his fiancee subtly switched language, trying to steer the conversation back to English for Yuuri’s sake. It didn’t work too well. The Russian swept back in, parents running away with their mother tongue like Yuuri wasn’t even there.

The meal crawled along painfully slowly for Yuuri and he could hardly bear the sympathetic glances Victor slipped him every few minutes. It wasn’t going at all how Yuuri had planned.

He didn’t dare ask now. He was pretty sure that if he did, the answer wouldn’t be what he wanted to hear, would only make it worse somehow…

So he swallowed his words, staying silent.

He sunk away straight to bed when they got home, trying to ignore Victor’s sad gaze bearing into his back as he retreated from the sitting room with defeated steps. As soon as the bedroom door was shut, Yuuri leaned against it, blinking fast. Hot tears pricked in the corners of his eyes, breaths ragged as they drew in short and sharp through his lungs. Fingers ripped through his tie, fumbling to loosen the top button of his shirt tightening around his throat, choking him.

It had all gone wrong. So, so wrong. They hated him. It was official and obvious, from their disapproving expressions, forced smiles, and exchanging looks…

Yuuri wasn’t used to being hated. Yurio’s harsh yelling was one thing, but someone actually  _ hating  _ him - and someone so close to Victor no doubt! - was something new entirely. Guilt churned sickening in his stomach and for a moment, Yuuri wondered if he was going to heavy up the ridiculously expensive dinner that he hadn’t been able to help pay for because he’d idiotically forgotten his wallet. It sat on the bedside table across the room, mocking him.

The back of his hand pressed into his mouth, choking back the sob that threatened to break free. The door wasn’t that thick. They might still hear him-

“He’s not right for you, Vitya.”

Yuuri froze as the words drifted through the door, in Natalia’s beautiful voice rolling over the English words with a thick underlying plea. 

“Mama, you don’t  _ know  _ him-”

“We know enough.” Vitaly said firmly. “He’s shown no respect for our culture or heritage, no regard for us as your parents -  _ he doesn’t even speak Russian, Vitya! _ ” 

Every word was said in crisp, flawless English and Yuuri pinched his eyes shut in realisation, the first tear rolling down his cheek. Because they  _ wanted _ him to hear. They wanted Yuuri to understand exactly what they thought of him, what they thought of their son’s new fiancee...

“He’s got no spine.” Natalia went on. “He didn’t stand up for you or himself once. We weren’t exactly being subtle, Vitya...”

“He broke your heart once before, son...”

“Are you _ sure  _ he won’t hurt you again?”

“He didn’t even win at the final when you coached him. Are you sure he cared about your coaching? Are you sure he cared about you at all?”

Yuuri blinked down at his ring through his blurred vision, watching the way his hand trembled traitorously. 

On the other side of the door, he didn’t hear Victor say anything.

When he woke up the next day - eyes aching from crying - Victor was already gone, a text waiting on his phone to meet them at the  _ Vkusno Cafe _ for brunch when he was ready. Yuuri swallowed down the message, eyes wandering to the Victor shaped dent in the pillow beside him sadly. For a moment, he wondered if he should go to the cafe or to the airport for the first flight back to Japan.

After a deep breath and a shuddering heart, Yuuri scrunched his eyes shut. He made up his mind quickly, reaching for his phone.

Half an hour later, the bell chimed in _ Vkusno Cafe.  _

Yuuri stepped through the door, bell ringing softly above his head as his eyes scanned the cosy little cafe for his fiancee and his parents, swallowing down the last of his fear. He found them quickly, following the quickly fading laughter. Sharp gazes glanced over at him from the corner of the cafe, following Victor’s round, glittering eyes to the door as he paused mid-sentence, mouth hanging open. Half a second later, his parents were just as surprised.

Yuuri’s sleek suit glided smoothly over his skin as he stepped forward, strides strong and confident. His fist was tighter than was probably wise around the colourful flowers clutched in his hand, but it was suddenly the least of his worries as Vitaly rose to his feet from the cafe table, crossing his arms firmly over his broad chest. 

It was an intimidating sight, Yuuri’s heart skipping a beat. He stuck firm to his resolve though, taking a deep breath.

“Sir,” he said, swallowing hard and bending at the waist, bowing deep and low but all the while holding Vitaly’s strong eye. “I know I haven’t made the best impression so far. But I want you to know that I love your son. More than anything. I know how special he is. I know I could search the whole world,” his eyes shifted, meeting Victor’s across the table. They were glittering, hand to his mouth. Yuuri’s heart just melted. “Nobody is better than him.”

Victor’s lips tweaked in a smile, and Yuuri flickered one back, but it wasn’t Victor he was trying to impress. Straightening up a fraction, he turned to Natalia and bowed again, offering out the flowers. Apparently Russian’s liked flowers.

After a moment, she gently accepted them. She looked stunned, eyes popped wide with surprise.

“I am learning Russian.” Yuuri went on, standing straight. “I want to learn more about your culture. I am going to win gold at the Grand Prix Final next season for Victor. And I want Victor there with me.”

His heart swelled with every word that spilled from his lips, rambling but voice firm with conviction. His heart was hammering in his chest, sure to catch up with him at some point and break his confident facade, but he prayed it would hold just a little longer. Just until he finished. Until they could understand, see his sincerity. 

Natalia Nikiforov was a mirror image of her son, mouth hanging open and eyes glittering like stars, simply stunned. Vitaly still had his composure though, eyes narrowing in challenge.

Yuuri met it squarely.

“So, Vitaly Ivanovich Nikiforov,” he sucked in a deep breath, gathering his strength. “ Могу ли я заставить ваших сыновей вступить в брак?” 

It sounded clumsy. Even he could tell how poor his attempt was, sounding nowhere near as melodic and beautiful as when the Nikiforov’s themselves spoke Russian or indeed the Google translate voice, but it was the best he could do with twenty minutes to learn. He just hoped the meaning came across, that the words made sense…

Vitaly’s lips pursed, sharp green eyes crisp. Yuuri’s heart plummeted with dread, sinking like a stone in water. It wasn’t the reaction he’d been hoping for.

“Please say yes.”

The words tumbled from his mouth in English before he could help it, but by that point he was struggling to care. Blood pounded in his ears, starting to sweat behind his collar. His composure was cracking. And if he had to beg for Victor’s hand in marriage, that was exactly what he would do. He would crawl across all of Russia on his hands and knees if he had to. 

Vitaly’s arms unfolded from his chest. “No.”

Yuuri’s heart stopped.

His breath hitched and he was pretty sure his horror must be written on his face, eyes feeling so wide that they hurt. And wet. Welling with tears. No, that was not what he wanted. He couldn’t cry now.

“In Russia, we do not say yes to that kind of proposition.” Vitaly went on, stretching out his hand, palm flat. 

Handshake. 

It took Yuuri half a second to process, but he couldn’t move, frozen in place. He just stared down at the large hand in front of him, heart cracking in his chest. Was this it? One final handshake before Vitaly kicked him out of his son’s life forever? Yuuri didn’t want to shake it. He didn’t want to accept Victor was gone. He couldn’t. He wanted to scream and cry and fight until Victor was back in his arms and his forever.

His gaze flickered back up to Vitaly’s wondering just how the Russian could be so cruel, so mean. It was only then he saw the sparkle in those bright emerald eyes though. He saw light, and warmth, and kindness, and… relief? Lips tweaked in a smile through Vitaly’s greying stubble, leaning forward a fraction to take Yuuri’s hand for himself.

Yuuri sucked in a gasp, lost in the sparkle darting through the Russian’s bright emerald gaze. His fingers were firm and tight around Yuuri’s, his spare hand clapping down on top of their entwined fingers. 

“We say да.” Vitaly said.

 

* * *

 

The echo of their vows still glowed solidly in Victor and Yuuri’s hearts as they walked out the front door of the manor house, still hand in hand and wedding bells chiming joyously overhead. Confetti and cherry blossom petals rained down around them. Cherry blossom petals - _ like from Hasetsu _ , Yuuri thought with a grin. Broad smiles lined their path and gravel crunched softly under their shoes.

Natalia Nikiforov threw herself at Yuuri. “Welcome to the family!”

She flung her arms around Yuuri’s neck, knocking the breath out of him in her enthusiasm and making him stagger back a few paces in surprise. He couldn’t help but grin though;  _ so that was where Victor got it from… _

Over her shoulder, Yuuri watched Victor embrace his father, lifted clean off his feet by the strong Russian man. His pale face pinched slightly as the air squeezed out of him, but it wasn’t enough to dampen the huge heart-shaped smile on his face. He beamed at Yuuri as they were both finally released, Natalia pressing a parting kiss to Yuuri’s cheek and moving to slip a rose crown - made from the same blue roses that had decorated the chairs for the ceremony - over her son’s head as she and her husband traded places.

Vitaly loomed over Yuuri with a dignified smile but Yuuri just beamed shamelessly, too brimming with happiness to hold it back. He held out his hand to his new father-in-law. His weathered grey-stubbled cheeks flickered a smirk. 

“Congratulations.” he said, taking Yuuri’s hand firm and strong. “We’re proud of you.” His eyes glanced over his shoulder towards his giggling wife and son, something warm glowing there when they turned back to Yuuri. “We’re proud of both of you.”

Yuuri hadn’t thought his grin could get and wider, but he was quickly proven wrong, cheeks aching as his smile stretched. “Thank you, sir.”

His heart swelled with joy, hearing the words he’d so desperately wanted to hear from the Russian since the moment he’d found out he’d be meeting them. The ghost of their first meeting was still a little raw. It was quickly becoming the joke of the family, table talk of all the embarrassing things Yuuri had done and said softened with kind laughter and reassuring squeezes of hands. It made him just perfect for Victor, the parents had said. Truly dramatic enough to join the Nikiforov clan.

Yuuri’s gaze shifted slightly, searching for his parents through the crowd and expecting for Vitaly to move on, to be done with him. He was wrong though, the tall Russian man not shifting an inch.

Something sparkled in his eyes - something bright and mischievous. “But as my wife said,” he said in a serious tone, head tipping forward slightly. The tiny gesture made him seem so much taller somehow. Yuuri felt his smile slip, heart skipping a beat. “We’re  _ family  _ now.”

Yuuri barely had the time to gasp before the air was squashed out of him in a bone crushing hug, lifted clean off the ground just as Victor had been. His eyes popped wide over the Russian’s shoulder, catching Victor’s gaze. It sparkled with a smile, beam matched perfectly by his mother’s beside him. Yuuri choked out a laugh, heart thudding back to life. He was proud to be a Nikiforov.

**Author's Note:**

> “Могу ли я заставить ваших сыновей вступить в брак?” = (Can I have your sons hand in marriage?)  
> да = Yes
> 
>  
> 
> Keep tabs on my tumblr [here](https://justrae2010.tumblr.com/) and check out my other YOI fics [here](http://archiveofourown.org/users/justrae2010/pseuds/justrae2010)
> 
> Please drop a comment before you go !
> 
> Hope you liked it!


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